[Translation: This is not the jail. You have a wrong number.]
One of our internal phone numbers is a digit off from the number people call to check on warrants or to see if their loved one is in jail. I get several of those calls every day. And it’s easy to steer someone right if they’re speaking English. But if they are speaking Spanish, which no hablo and je ne comprends pas unless it’s filtered ~ s-l-o-w-l-y ~ through French, then Matamoros, we have a problem!
So I asked a couple of the legal secretaries to help me come up with a formula that fits on a sticky note, which is now laminated to my desk with scotch tape.
And every so often I mutter it to myself, just waiting for an opportunity to use it.
Change of subject. I love how almonds smell. I love it that, if I take the time to eat them one by one, unadorned by chocolate or candy shells, and chew them slowly and savor them, when I exhale, I smell almond oil. Or Jergens lotion. It’s such a happy smell.
Another change of subject. I could do this. I already have a hanging sweater organizer with six compartments. Or I could get one of the new bamboo hanging goodies at the Container Store and cross-stitch the days of the week and add them to each shelf. [Of course I have time to do that. I can use that hour that I’m not sleeping, right before the alarm goes off.] Or, the Container Store used to have plastic split rings, about the diameter of a large bagel, to fit over the clothes rod and separate jackets, skirts, blouses, etc. Just in case one needed a little verbal help to decide what should go where. I had the girls’ sizes marked on those rings when I only had two or three kids to share one closet. [I also painted dot-flowers on the front of my two chests-of-drawers. Half a flower for size 6 mos, one flower for 12 mos, a flower and a half for 18 mos, etc. All the way up to 6x, which was an array of six blossoms and a bud. But I digress.]
It might be helpful to have the week’s clothing, with accessories and undies, tucked into cubbies like this. I know that I do better on the mornings where I have gathered everything up the night before. I also wish I could pack a week’s worth of lunches on Sunday and stack them in the fridge and they would stay fresh.
On the other hand, where’s the room for serendipity? What if on Sunday night I decided that Wednesday was a purple day, and when I got to Wednesday it felt more like a chartreuse day? And some of my best-nourished days are those when I start grabbing things as I ask myself, what do I need to eat today?
Speaking of food. Dinner last night with Brother Sushi was great, as always. The raves I had heard about Massey’s were justified. I would have to sit down with a plate from each restaurant, side by side, to be able to tell you if the chicken fried steak from Star Cafe is still my favorite. The potatoes are better at Massey’s. We got slices of coconut meringue pie to take home, because Mary, there was no room at the inn. I had coconut pie for breakfast this morning. With coconut sprinkled on top of the meringue. Heavenly.
I will go back. I want to try their meatloaf, to see if I like it as well as my own. Which reminds me that I want to make some in this glorious new oven, to see if meatloaf is as much improved by cooking with gas, as my brownies are.
What’s on the agenda today? Knitting, first and foremost. I am planning to spend a lot of happy time in my room with sticks and string. I made a quick trip to the laundromat, to finish what I started earlier this week. I had only sufficient energy the other night to wash unmentionables. This time I washed socks and jeans and T-shirts and the like. I wanted to be done with that before it starts getting warm. It was 77°F at 7:00am. It’s 92°F at 12:30pm. And it’s supposed to “only” hit 99°F today. [A regular cold front! Whatever shall we do?]
Next, I think, will be a quick dash over to the la-di-dah nursery to see if they have any Roma tomatoes left from their shipment earlier this week, and to see if they have any leek starts or whatever you call them. Leeklets? I would love to try growing my own.
Because sometime between now and February, it will stop being a hundred bajillion degrees outside, and I will want to make leek and potato soup, and I will not want to pay $3.99 for a bundle of leeks when you only use the bottom third anyway. At least now I have a compost pile for the tough upper leaves, so none of it will go to waste. You think my compost pile is stinky now?
And then I will probably be in the right frame of mind to wash that wall in my room and knit while it dries and then do a little painting. I may pick up some paint chips for the loo while I’m out today. I won’t tackle that paint job until my room is finished, but it would be good to contemplate colors for awhile.
Next Friday is payday. I might buy the paint for the other three walls in my room and do one wall a weekend for the next month. It is going to be something of a pain to empty my bookcases and move them out of the way, but I think I want to get that wall done first. Moving the bed, once the bookcases are back in place, should be much less hassle. And while the bed is away from the walls, I can get the headboard reattached. [Even though I sleep with my head at the foot of the bed, because that is the only place I can plug in my CPAP.] I just think a bed looks more like a bed, and less like a nest, if there is a headboard.
After dinner last night, Brother Sushi used his superior upper-body strength and hoisted my tomatoes onto the T-bar in the back yard. I wonder if they were confused to wake up this morning and see grass instead of sky?
Here they are, taking a nice nap in the shade before I went to the laundromat. They’re sunbathing now.
I just enjoyed a bowl of fresh hash browns. Still getting the hang of the stovetop and the cast iron skillet. These were almost perfect, and I got the fleur de sel about right, too. I think I am sufficiently fortified to go back out in that heat and tackle Home Depot and the nursery.
Tune in tomorrow for a wee surprise.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!